


Say Something

by taxicab12



Series: more to me than you can dream [23]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Bad Dreams, Booker needs therapy, Don’t bet against Nicky, Gen, Learning from mistakes, Memories, and really don’t bet against Andy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxicab12/pseuds/taxicab12
Summary: “I quit smoking,” Booker said, one night in Toronto as he held a lighter out to her.“What,” Andy smiled at him, “you afraid it’s going to kill you?”He smiled back, in his own Booker way, and took a long sip from his flask. “I think one addiction’s enough for me, don’t you, boss?”
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: more to me than you can dream [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878034
Comments: 12
Kudos: 148





	Say Something

Andy wakes with a start, the night breeze giving her a chill through the barely opened window. Her blankets are thrown aside, tossed off during a dream she has already forgotten.

Nile is asleep on her bed on the other side of the room, softly snoring.

Andy stands, grabbing a cigarette from the pack on her nightstand and lighting it, then moves to the window before taking a drag.

(“I quit smoking,” Booker said, one night in Toronto as he held a lighter out to her.

“What,” Andy smiled at him, “you afraid it’s going to kill you?”

He smiled back, in his own Booker way, and took a long sip from his flask. “I think one addiction’s enough for me, don’t you, boss?”)

She scowls, putting the cigarette out on the window pane, then tossing it on the ground below. Andy isn’t afraid of death, even now, but there are some ways she doesn’t want to die.

She shivers in the cold wind, but doesn’t shut the window.

(“I hate the cold,” Joe grumbled, one winter morning in Helsinki.

Booker grunted his agreement. “If the noose hadn’t killed me, I think the winter in Russia would’ve.”

Nicky laughed. “It’s not so bad after a while. Shall we get some warmer jackets?”

“You two,” Andy said, “are just wimps. Nicky, don’t be so nice to them.”

Nicky laughed again, a sound at which Booker scowled.

“Oh, please,” he said, lightly shoving him. “You’re just as cold as we are, you’re Italian.”

“Yes,” he said. “But I am not a— how did you put it, Andy, a wimp?”)

She shuts the window, the already small hotel room suddenly feeling tiny. It takes all her energy to shut it quietly, to remember that Nile is still asleep. 

(“You know what, fuck you!” Booker yelled. “Fuck all of you.”

“Come on, Book,” Joe said. “Pay up.”

He pulled out his wallet and chucked the whole thing at Nicky’s face, but Nicky merely caught it and grinned good naturedly before pocketing the entire wallet.

Andy chuckled, hiding the laugh in her drink. “Haven’t two hundred years taught you not to bet against Nicky?”

“He’s lost bets,” Booker argued, though he likely expected the easy counter argument.

“Only ever to Andy,” Joe said, putting an arm around his lover. “Trust me, I gave up after fifteen years of gambling.”

“I would never gamble,” Nicky pressed a hand to his chest in false offense. “I’m a good Christian.”

They all laughed at that.)

Andy wants to scream. She wants to hit something. She wants the world to go back to the small semblance of sense it used to make.

(“What the fuck did you do?” Andy asked, finding Booker on the couch, cradling his arm.

“I think I broke my hand.” He shrugged, then winced at the pain. “Hand me my flask?”

“Oh, Book,” she said, sitting beside him.

“Also, the wall in the kitchen,” he said, his teeth arranged as if he were smiling, but his face only showing pain and sorrow otherwise. “I’ll fix it later.”

She should have said something, but she stood, handing him his flask. “You better. This place is a rental.”

She should have said something.

He took a drink.)

“Andy?” Nile asks. “Are you okay?”

She taps the window. “Just getting a chill. Go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t dream anything yet tonight,” Nile says. “It should be a good thing, but it’s almost more unsettling. Do... do the dreams get easier?”

(“Fuck,” Booker said as he woke, taking a swig from his flask before he was even upright.

“Quynh again?” Joe asked, awake to keep watch.

Andy, awake only because sleep wouldn’t take her, said nothing, gave no indication that she could hear them.

“It’s worse every time,” Booker said. “It shouldn’t be possible, but it’s always worse.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about?”

“Quynh—”

“She’s probably the only person on this planet who wants to be put out of her misery more than me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Go to sleep, Joe. I’ll keep watch.”

Andy said nothing.)

Andy should say something, but what is there to say?

Nile looks at her expectantly.

She should say something.

“No,” she says, the words surprising even her, “no, I don’t think it does. But we are here, to help you through it, Nile.”

“I know,” Nile says, and her eyes say that she means that. “I know, Andy. Get some sleep.”

The bed welcomes her back and, for once, she sleeps well too.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t usually like present tense, but I wanted the contrast, so I gave it a shot


End file.
